


Falling Out

by Haberdasher



Series: Good Omens Convenience Store AU [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angsty Crowley (Good Omens), Bad Parenting, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crowley Swears (Good Omens), Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Crowley's Sunglasses (Good Omens), Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Gen, Human Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Leaving Home, Misgendering, Name Changes, Names, Swearing, Tears, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Crowley (Good Omens), Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Trying not to cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 04:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haberdasher/pseuds/Haberdasher
Summary: Crowley gets kicked out of home after coming out to his family as trans.





	Falling Out

Crowley had known the risks of coming out to his family. He had played out potential conversations hundreds of times in his head and tried to prepare responses for every word that could be thrown his way, had filled two suitcases with the possessions he valued most the night before, waited until he was sure he could make it on his own if the worst happened.

That didn’t soften the blow as much as Crowley had hoped when the worst did, in fact, happen.

Those haphazardly-packed suitcases were heading downstairs with Crowley now, one of his hands grabbing each handle with a grip strong enough to turn his knuckles white. His parents were yelling at him the whole way, but half the time they were speaking over one another, making the resulting jumble of words that much easier for him to ignore. Still, though, he caught just enough of what they were saying to have his heart drop a little with every step he took down the stairs.

“I thought we raised you better than this!”

_Thump._

“You need to see a shrink, get this whole gender thing sorted out.”

_Thump._

“Maybe if I had made you wear dresses more, like a _good_ girl would...”

_Thump._

“Don’t throw your life away because of some silly delusion!”

_Thump._

(The whole thing would probably have been a bit more graceful if Crowley had been able to stop the suitcases from ramming into each step along the way, but they were far too heavy for him to lift from the ground entirely; besides, truth be told, he rather liked the idea that they were scraping against the steps he’d climbed thousands of times over the years, hoped they left scratches on the wood floor his mother liked to brag about.)

“You know, God doesn’t make mistakes.”

Crowley was at the bottom of the stairs now and looked up to see his parents side by side at the top, with his baby sister’s head peeking out between them. He let out a sharp laugh, because he had seen this line coming from a mile away, and shot back the response he’d prepared for the occasion.

“Well, either God cocked things up by making me look like a girl when I’m a boy, or He cocked things up by making me think I’m a boy when I’m a girl. Whichever it is, sure sounds like a mistake to me.”

(Crowley normally wouldn’t have used such language when his parents were in earshot, let alone used it when speaking to them, but he figured that them getting upset over swear words would be the least of his problems right about now.)

His parents’ offended gasps and his mother’s cry of “Don’t blame Him for any of this!” might as well have been music to Crowley’s ears.

The music decidedly soured, however, when his father called out “Angelica...”

Crowley made a show of looking away from them and towards the front door--as much as he could while wearing sunglasses, anyway.

“Anthony,” he softly but firmly corrected.

“I am _not_ calling you that. That’s not your name, and you know it.”

It made sense, in a roundabout sort of way, that his father was the one objecting to his use of the name Anthony. Crowley’s namesake _had_ been his father’s brother, after all, not that they’d been nearly as close as you’d expect from that alone. (Uncle Anthony having been the only other black sheep of the family wasn’t the only reason Crowley had chosen that name to be his own, but it certainly didn’t _hurt_, either.)

“Crowley, then.”

“Crowley?”

“‘s my new last name, or will be soon enough anyway, since I see no reason to stick with yours.”

His mother was the one to speak up this time. “Where in the world did you get _Crowley_ from?”

The truth was that Crowley had picked the surname more or less just because he liked the way it sounded, but while he didn’t have a better explanation than that one prepared to give his parents, he knew they’d criticize the hell out of him if he admitted to such a simple reason for choosing the name he did. Instead of either telling the less-than-ideal truth or quickly coming up with a clever lie, Crowley just shrugged and took a few more steps towards the front door.

“Angelica...”

Crowley didn’t turn around. “I gave you two names to choose from. Pick one of them and use it.”

“Angelica-” Crowley sighed as his mother insisted on using the name that might as well be dead to him now. “-you don’t have to do this, you know. There are people who know all about this kind of thing, and they’ve helped loads of kids like you before--they can fix it, fix _you_.”

“Torture me until I really am delusional, you mean? Sorry, but that’d be a hard pass from me on that one.” Crowley took another few steps forward; the front door was within reach now, and he grabbed the doorknob and flung it open, letting the muggy summer air rush inside.

“Angelica-”

“_Anthony_.” Crowley could have added “or Crowley,” but he knew that insisting on using his first name would piss his father off more, and given that fighting for actual acceptance of his true identity was clearly a lost cause at this point, burning every bridge he could on his way out was all he had left to get out of this conversation.

His father, at least, didn’t insist on repeating his dead name, though the hesitation before he spoke up again suggested that he had at least considered the possibility.

“If you go out that door right now, you’ll never be able to come back in again.”

Crowley turned his head at that point, looking back up at the only family he’d ever known, still gathered together at the top of the stairs.

His parents had showed him so much kindness over the years, had told him over and over again that they loved him... without letting him know that there was an asterisk attached to that love, a disclaimer that all familial connections were null and void unless he pretended to be a girl for the rest of his life. He’d taken their love and care for granted for a while, then hoped that somehow they’d accept him even once they knew who (what?) he truly was, that in the end it wouldn’t come to... well, come to _this_.

And his baby sister, Christina, big eyes and curly red hair poking out from between her parents’ legs... she was young, and he had hoped to watch her grow up, but now they’d never get to know each other... she was young enough that she probably wouldn’t even remember this, wouldn’t even remember _him_, wouldn’t know anything but his parents’ side of the story... and what if she turned out like him, or close enough to get kicked out of the family, at any rate? What if they both ended up family outcasts, black sheep who’d never even get to bond with one another the way Crowley had with Uncle Anthony?

But it was no use thinking about any of that, really, was it? There was no way to reverse all of this, not unless Crowley lived a lie for the rest of his life, and that, at least, was one line he wasn’t willing to cross, come hell or high water. His family was lost to him now, or would be in a matter of moments.

And if his eyes were starting to water, if the edges of his field of vision were starting to blur, if he could feel tears on the verge of falling... well. Good thing he was wearing sunglasses, anyway. He was _not_ going to give his parents the satisfaction of breaking down in front of them, of letting them know how much this hurt.

Instead, Crowley turned around and headed outside, lugging his suitcases behind him, yelling one last retort as the front door began to close behind him.

“Hell if I care.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, consider following me on tumblr at [haberdashing](https://haberdashing.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
